


Hold On

by edibleflowers



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Kissing, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 07:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12338280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: Gladio and Ignis have a moment to themselves.





	Hold On

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to adriantepes and the Discord server for putting the image of this in my head and thus forcing me (help help I'm being oppressed) to write this. Am I returning to my shameless smut roots? Perhaps.

"Not now, if you don't mind," Ignis says, just a bit testy. "I'm trying to prepare dinner."

Gladio ignores Ignis's words, crowding up against him even more. Ignis lets out a long-suffering sigh, but doesn't stop chopping vegetables into long fine strands. He could have used a grater or mandoline, but no: Ignis likes doing things by hand. Gladio likes watching him, those clever hands (bared for the purposes of food preparation) making quick, neat work of whatever he's preparing.

"Go on," he says, low, in Ignis's ear. "I'm not stoppin' you."

"You're certainly making your best attempt to," Ignis retorts: there's no heat in his voice, though. If anything, he might even sound fond.

Normally Ignis wouldn't even let Gladio bother him this much while he was cooking, but they're in a caravan tonight, and Prompto and Noctis are seated at the table outside, racing each other through a level of King's Knight. It's not exactly private, not with the windows and door propped open to allow the evening breeze to circulate, but it's better than nothing.

"Anyway, this is all gonna go in the oven to cook for a while, isn't it?" Gladio asks, pretending innocence while his hands smooth over Ignis's belly. His fingers pluck at a button on Ignis's shirt; Ignis _tsk_ s and flattens the offending digits against his stomach. "We'll have some time."

"You're rather shameless tonight," Ignis comments. 

Gladio kisses his ear. "Missed gettin' to do this," he says. "Countin' the days 'til we can get back to Lestallum and our own room."

Ignis says nothing. He doesn't have to. He feels the same way, and Gladio knows it. "Back up," he says instead, and Gladio does, giving him room to add the vegetables to the casserole with its prepared portion of garula shoulder. The whole thing goes in the oven, and Ignis sets the timer and then leans back against the counter with a sigh.

Gladio takes the unspoken invitation and moves in, hand on Ignis's hip, the other cradling Ignis's face as he leans in for a kiss. It's familiar and easy, and for a moment, Ignis is tempted to break his no-public-displays-of-affection rule.

"Hey, Specs!" comes Noctis's voice from outside, and Ignis drops his head back and swallows a groan of frustration.

"What is it, Noct?" he calls instead. Gladio's forehead falls to Ignis's shoulder, and he can feel Gladio shaking a little with silent laughter.

"Prompto and I are gonna go hang out with the chocobos for a bit, he wants to get some more pictures."

"Shut up!" Prompto protests, though he's laughing at the same time.

An unforeseen benefit of staying at the Chocobo Post for the evening: Ignis makes a mental note to do this more often. Wherever Prompto goes, Noctis is sure to follow.

"Very well," he calls back. As their footsteps scuff in the dirt, he gives Gladio's shoulders a push. "Go close the door."

Gladio grins as he straightens. "How long do we have?"

Ignis pushes himself up onto the counter, reaching for the egg-timer to look at it. "About forty minutes."

"Plenty of time." Gladio turns the lock on the door and shucks off his leather shirt as he comes back; Ignis is already unbuttoning his own shirt, and Gladio digs a couple of items out of his pocket, setting them by Ignis's knee before he starts on his belt. By the time Ignis has his shirt off, suspenders dropped to his hips, Gladio's nude -- well, pants around his ankles, boots still on -- and Ignis, as always, is briefly overwhelmed by the sight.

Gladio's strength is from honest work: he's built, strong and solid, but it's all real muscle, and Ignis could spend hours -- and has -- worshiping the beauty of his body, the feathers of the tattoo an entrancing pattern drawing Ignis's eyes up from Gladio's forearms to his broad shoulders, over his deltoids to his pectorals, hinting (from this angle) at the glory of the ink that covers his back to the waist. Most of all, though, Ignis is particularly enthralled by the sight of Gladio's cock, already hard and flushed red as it juts from the thatched nest of hair at his groin. Ignis felt that line of heat against his ass before, when Gladio was trying to divert him from preparing the food, but it's even better to see it now -- especially since it's been days since they've had a chance to do this.

(Sometimes, it's better for the waiting.)

"You're not naked," Gladio says, sounding disappointed.

"Help me out," Ignis offers silkily, and Gladio grins and steps forward. Big hands tug Ignis's hips to the edge of the counter and he undoes Ignis's belt hastily, then the trousers; Ignis pushes up so that Gladio can tug it all down (belt, pants, underwear) in one hasty moment, and then Ignis, too, is revealed: perhaps not as big as Gladio, but just as hard and needy.

"Like this?" Gladio breathes. Ignis nods even as he surges up to wrap his arms around Gladio's shoulders and kiss him, hungry now, desperate. He kicks off his shoes so that the rest of his clothing can fall to the floor: right now, he doesn't care if the world hears them, so long as he gets Gladio in him _yesterday_.

"Here," Gladio says, and with that infinite patience he always seems to have at moments like this, he gets the packet of slick and tears it open, wetting his fingers thoroughly. Ignis may not need much, but he does have to have at least a little prep, and he moans when Gladio's finger slips into him, smooth and deep and only shockingly cool for a moment.

Before he can begin to beg for another, Gladio's got the second one pressed in along with the first. The fullness of Gladio's fingers in him is delicious and not enough all at once: his feet finding purchase on Gladio's thighs, he rocks down, unsubtly demanding more. They may have some time, but Gladio always turns Ignis into a needy wreck of a human being somehow.

By the time Gladio's worked his way up to three fingers, Ignis is panting, one hand holding on to the corner of the fridge and the other at the edge of the counter. There's barely enough room, half of his lower body is too warm from proximity to the stove, and his head has caught up against the upper cabinets at least once. Ignis doesn't care. Nothing matters now except getting Gladio in him.

"Please," he hears himself gasp, his voice raw, shaken. There's no way the others won't know what happened while they were gone. That's a problem for Future!Ignis to deal with. "G-gladio, how long do you intend to torment me--"

"All you had to do was ask," Gladio says, but his voice has gone equally hoarse and Ignis knows he's barely clinging to self-control. Gladio's fingers slip out of him and Ignis has a moment to mourn the loss while Gladio gets the condom on. Then that familiar pressure is there, right where Ignis craves it.

"Gladio," Ignis breathes. " _Now_."

Gladio's eyes, blown dark with hunger, rise up to meet Ignis's. Ignis savors the sight for that instant; the next, Gladio's driving into Ignis, and Ignis bites back a shout.

Part of him is pretty sure he'll never be able to get enough of this feeling, the shocking fullness when Gladio first sinks home. Gladio's hands brace Ignis's hips on the edge of the counter, keeping him more or less still; Ignis folds his legs around Gladio as if he could somehow hold Gladio inside him forever. Gladio tips forward a little, forehead resting against Ignis's; then he draws back and thrusts again, and this time Ignis can't contain the moan of sheer pleasure.

When his head falls back, the sharp edge of the cabinet catches him once more and he winces in spite of himself. Gladio shakes his head. "That's not gonna work," he mutters, and pulls Ignis toward him. "Hold on," he instructs.

Ignis does, wrapping his arms around Gladio's shoulders, confused -- but only for a moment. Gladio's hands slide under Ignis's ass and lift him easily, with only a brief grunt. 

"What--where are you taking me," Ignis gasps. It's hard to breathe with his ass stuffed full of Gladio's cock.

"Not far." Gladio takes two careful steps to the side and then pushes Ignis back to the fridge. Ignis shudders at the briefly cool sensation, which is immediately drowned as Gladio draws back and then drives into him again. "Better?"

Ignis drags Gladio in for a hard kiss. He can't do anything else right now, can barely even think: talking is out of the question. His tongue is put to better use exploring Gladio's mouth anyway, so that's what he does, giving over to sensation, to the desperate need to feel and be felt. 

For a little while, nothing else exists in the world but the two of them. There are other sounds off in the distance, the cries of chocobos and the occasional grind of car tires on pavement, but it all seems surreal, a distant dream. All that matters to Ignis is Gladio working in him, fucking him in steady deep pushes, the slow sweet friction of skin against skin. Between their bellies, Ignis's cock is trapped as if in a vise, and he groans when Gladio rocks up and the slightly rougher skin of his lower abdomen grinds over him. Pre-come drips down, slicking every press of skin, making it hotter, wetter.

"I can't," Ignis breathes, and Gladio blinks dazed eyes at him. 

"Can't what, baby?" 

"S-so close." Ignis tries to let go of Gladio so that he can touch himself, but Gladio shakes his head, draws his hand up along Ignis's arm to keep it where it is.

"I've got you." Gladio's voice rasps in Ignis's ear. Ignis drops his head back against the fridge and gives in. Gladio is a force of nature when he wants to be, and now is no exception. Somehow, he keeps Ignis pinned to the refrigerator, one hand under his thigh to hold him up and the bulk of his body pressed to Ignis's; his other hand slips between them and makes a tight fist on Ignis's cock. When he starts to slide it, it's all over; Ignis gives a helpless, thready cry and comes all over Gladio's hand.

"There," Gladio grunts, and now his head goes down to Ignis's shoulder, both hands holding Ignis in place again. His thrusts go fast and ragged and he bites down on Ignis's shoulder when the orgasm takes him, teeth set hard in the softer flesh of the deltoid muscle. Ignis shudders hard, gasps for air.

In the stillness, Gladio sinks to his knees, holding on to Ignis so that they slip down to the floor together. Normally, Ignis would protest: the floors of the caravans are generally none too clean, appearances to the contrary. Right now, there's no energy left in him to speak out.

"I'll get up in a second," Gladio murmurs. He sits back on his heels so that Ignis is almost in his lap, both of them sweaty and sucking in air.

"Whenever you like," Ignis says, and lets his head rest on Gladio's shoulder, inked feathers filling his vision. They don't have much time, but they can indulge this much, at least, before the others return.

* * *

Behind a grain silo, Prompto steps back from Noctis with a grin. "Think we gave 'em enough time?" he asks, wiping his mouth.

Noctis chuckles and finishes zipping up his pants. "Just about. Let's take one more walk by the pens just in case."


End file.
